


Nicotine

by learninghowtobreathe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Fluff and Smut, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Top John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/learninghowtobreathe/pseuds/learninghowtobreathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes home from surgery. Sherlock really missed him... Shameless smut here!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine

**Author's Note:**

> I promised you long chapter, of “Far Away...”, I know. But here you got shameless smut instead. Hope you like it!
> 
> As usually – no regrets! :)
> 
> \-----------------------------------
> 
> Huge thanks to my wonderful beta sherlockholmesconsultingvampire <3
> 
> And to my friend for getting me drunk (I hope you'll read it, Kasia <3)

**NICOTINE**

 

 

 

“ _Cross my heart and hope to die_ _  
_ _Burn my lungs and curse my eyes_ _  
_ _I've lost control and I don't want it back_ _  
  
_ _I'm going numb, I've been hijacked_ _  
_ _It's a fucking drag_ _  
  
_ _I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you_ _  
_ _So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do_ _  
  
_ _You're worse than nicotine, nicotine_ _“_

_\- Panic! At The Disco, “Nicotine”_

 

 

 

It was pitch dark and it was raining, pouring, water was falling from sky in little waterfalls. Everything was immersed in darkness, darkness devouring every light.

John opened the door with a little too much force. He was angry to the point that he wanted to shoot the walls. But that was Sherlock's privilege, so he settled on imaginary shots.

His day was a disaster, he was soaked, tired, irritated and hungry.

He couldn't help it, flashbacks came to him, he remembered when he came back home from the war and had to settle to a normal life. And how awful it was.

He breathed deeply, calming himself. Now was now.

And he finally did it.

But now his 'normal life' was ruined, demolished, devastated. And it was _perfect._ It never had been better.

He’d 'experienced' love lots of times. He’d had loads of girlfriends and boyfriends and was generally happy with them.

But the kind of love he felt now? It was something too powerful, it devoured him, made him tremble and blush every time he saw _him_ , itmade him feel like an awkward teenager again.

And it was so different than with his past girlfriends and boyfriends. It was unbelievably _real_.

He still couldn't believe his luck, couldn't believe it was true.

He found himself waking up in the middle of the night only to check if _he_ was breathing. If _he_ wasn't in bed, John would walk to the main room just to find him, and kiss him and go back to sleep.

 _Sherlock_ became his whole world, taking all the available space both in his heart and his life, just like he was doing with every other space.

John opened the door to the flat and took off his coat.

He barely had time to turn, when he suddenly found himself embraced by a certain consulting detective.

He looked up, taking in his face. Sherlock was pale as always, but with a little tint of rosy blush on his cheeks. He looked at John with his ever-changing eyes, today more grey than blue, with huge pupils, dilated by lust.

He kissed him, tenderly, almost only a brush of his lips over John's. But it was just an interlude, the kiss deepened and soon they were fighting for dominance, like always, like they did particularly when they were waiting for too long,

“I missed you.” Sherlock's voice was hoarse when he broke the kiss in need of air.

“I missed you too.” It's all John could say before he was pulled into another deep, sensuous kiss. They stumbled into the bedroom, losing clothing on the way.

John almost shoved his lover onto the bed, and was immediately dragged on top of him. He got lost in another kiss, nipping at Sherlock's lips, tangling his fingers in his hair. They were already almost naked, but John broke the kiss, and slid down Sherlock's body, taking off his pants and leaving feather-light, ghost kisses on his exposed skin. He mouthed at his cock, enjoying the sounds his lover was making. He could devour him now, take him to pieces, make him scream his name. But that wasn't how John wanted it today.

He slid back and kissed Sherlock deeply, earning a soft moan from him.

“I want you to ride me,” he whispered, licking slowly at his ear and biting at the earlobe. John relished in the shiver his words made.

He reached to the bed table, and pulled the bottle of lube from the drawer. Sherlock took it from him with a lascivious smile, and coated his fingers with it.

He opened John slowly, taking his time, and torturing him, watching him tremble and shiver, earning groans of pleasure and pleading mixed with swears. Finally, he kissed him deeply, devouring moans and prayers. He lay on his back, pulling John on top of him, and guided him down, stifling his own moan when he felt how tight and hot John was.

Sherlock looked upon his lovers face, and in his eyes he saw so many emotions that it overwhelmed him. The amount of love John felt for him... Was he able to love him that much? Although he loved him more than anything in the world? Thoughts in his head started to spin again.

But then John moved slowly and everything went blurry and there was only pleasure and love, so much love, but it was perfect and his orgasm hit him so unexpectedly, and he was crying John's name, nevermind Mrs Hudson's poor ears, nevermind their neighbours, nevermind the open window, nevermind the whole world.

It was only the two of them, bounded with feeling impossible to explain.

And then John was screaming Sherlock’s name as he fell on top of him. Sherlock embraced him and they lay, motionless, intertwined, listening to the frantic beating of their hearts.

“John,” murmured Sherlock after few minutes.

“Hmm?” John's eyes were closed and the expression on his face was a mixture of peace, calm and pleasure.

“You're worse than cocaine,” he said, almost whispering. “Worse than nicotine. Worse than anything I was ever addicted to. I am addicted to you and I will never get rid of you.”

“I love you too, you poetic git.” John smiled, kissing him gently. “Damn all the mess you create, I love you and I will never stop loving you.”

“And you call me poetic.” Sherlock smiled lazily.

“So if you say I'm worse than nicotine, I expect you'll get rid of these cigarettes you hide from me and smoke when I’m not around, thinking I don't know?”

Sherlock pulled a face, and then John kissed him and they lay, kissing slowly and luxuriously.

The same day Sherlock got rid of his hidden cigarettes.

And he never needed another in his whole life.

 

THE END


End file.
